


Deals With a Devil

by puddles3535



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Funny, GoT otp, GoT ship, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Love, Lust, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Ship, The South, Travel, new feelings, otp, the north - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddles3535/pseuds/puddles3535
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is home for what feels like the first time in forever. But at what cost. </p><p>As she learns how to lead her people and protect her land, word will spread that she and Jon now have the North. They don't have the men nor support for another war. With a broken family, a bastard brother's name, and the wrong house name, how can she keep everything at bay? </p><p>And she has to keep her promise to Lord Baelish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything Dies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you are new here then welcome. If you have read my other works, then good for you. You get a gold star.  
> How the heck are you'll? I am Puddles and this is a ship I have had for about three years. So here you go. Warning this is going to be very smutty. I mean... It's Lord Baelish. 
> 
> So a little bit about me is that I am currently working to save up money for school and I am dyslexic (why is that word so hard to spell. I mean... why?). So this will be updated rarely and I will have mistakes. So, I am sorry... But I think you will like this fic if you like the ship.
> 
> Also. Can we please give a big hug to my beta. Without her, this fic would not be half as good. So thank you very much iriskitty9. She is wanting to take on more beta jobs so I will leave a link to her profile. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/iriskitty9/pseuds/iriskitty9
> 
> Thank you all, you are the reason I post my work. You guys are amazing
> 
> I love you all.

The screams and moans of pain started to fade as Sansa walked away from her now dead husband. She kept her head down as she slowly walked back to her room. Though her eyes were shielded by the sight of death, the smells of fecal matter and blood filled that air. It was not the dead that scared Sansa anymore. What scared the girl was the fact that she was growing used to people dropping like flies. Even the death of her little brother... She knew that Rickon would not stand a chance with Ramsay, but he was still murdered. Sansa was numb to the feeling of loss… After four years of crying over the death of her parents and siblings, she just could not find it in her to let herself be that weak again.   
  
Sansa walked up to the main gate and walked into her home for what felt like the first time in centuries. It was not the home she grew up in, but it was not Kingslanding, nor was it under Ramsay's grip. So it was the closest home she may ever have. Winterfell was in hers now. It belonged to its rightful owner; a Stark.   
  
‘ _ You are not a Stark,’ _ went through her head as she walked to her room. It was thoughts like this that she now had to fight. She knew that it would fade; the feeling like she was not a part of her family. But they still hurt. She was bound to a Bolton by marriage and before that a Lannister. For all, she knew she could be just a widow, but she never saw what happened to Tyrion. Though he was always kind to Sansa, he could, technically walk up to the gate and make his claim on Sansa. The thought of all of this made her sick. She was done with being used as a pawn in the wars of men. She did not know what was worse: her name or the way men looked at her. When she was young and stupid she loved that way everyone adored Sansa. She thought that it was a blessing and that she was better than most people. But no matter how attractive you are, how strong you are, or how wise you are…  **Everything dies.**   
  
Sansa removed her dress wear to slip into a sleeping tunic. The night was crisp and she could feel winter. The last winter she had during her life was ending soon after she was born. Rob and Jon are the real northerners; born during the peak of winter. The tunic she dressed in was thick and a color that brought out the green in her eyes. As she brushed her hair she thought of the memories of her mother doing this for her when she was very young. She remembers chasing Arya throughout the keep and then finding the little one under her own bed; she does not even remember what she had done. With a sigh, Sansa put her brush down and looked at herself in the mirror for a long time. Maybe the longest in years. Her face was thinner and her cheekbones were high. She was grown now... If her face did not give that away, then her figure did. Her complexion was glowing more and paler now that she was not under the sun of the south. This made her eyes striking and her hair seems like fire. She was not a girl anymore…. She would never act like that girl again.   
  
  
~

  
  
Sansa woke the sound of men screaming outside of her window. She groaned as she walked over to the window. She threw it open and looked out to see a couple Wildlings fighting over the Gods only know. Sansa tried to get their attention but it was no good. She saw a pitcher that must have been left for her to wash up with. Grabbing it with a small smile on her face she threw it on the wild men. When the water hit them they looked up and glared at Sansa. Either they did not know who she was or they did not care; their looks would have scared Sansa if she was on the ground with them.   
  
“What the fuck was that for!” yelled the man on the right. He was older and seemed like he was winning the fight.   
  
“You woke me!” Sansa shouted in reply.   
  
“So?” Said the older man, “It's fucking cold out here! Do you want me to freeze?”   
  
“Maybe you should have thought of that before I was awoken,” Sanas stated.   
  
The younger one let out a bit off a laugh. “Well forgive us, your highness.”    
  
The words made Sansa's blood run cold. “I am not a  _ queen _ , you repugnant, dense, barbaric pigs!”   
  
Before they could reply she slammed her window shut and took a deep breath. She did not like the free folk in her walls, yet she owed them. Without them, Jon would not have been able to take their home back if the Wildlings had said no. The Wildlings did not know that Sansa once wanted to be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, a lifetime ago.They did not know that the thought of that makes her want to die. She wanted to stay away from Kingslanding for the rest of her life. Sansa stood there looking out at the morning sky. 

She had no idea what she would do now; now that she had her land back and she felt as safe as anyone could in the world. Maybe she will try and find Arya. She was the only one left alive…. Well, maybe Bran. Where is Bran? Arya was told that Rickon and Bran had run off with the one Wildling woman. Grabbing her robe she quickly went to the door. When she opened it she was stopped by a hard chest.    
  
“You are in a hurry,” a rough voice said as Jon caught Sansa from falling over. She grabbed her half brothers arms and gave them a squeeze.   
  
“Jon!”   
  
His face grew with worry. “What's wrong.”   
  
“Ayra might not be the only one left alive,” She started. “What if Bran is out there?”    
  
Jon's face went hard for a moment, “Sansa, if he was not with Rickon, how could he be alive?”

  
“I don't know, but there is still a chance.”   
  
Jon sighed, “A slim one.”   
  
Sansa pulled back from him and straightened her back. “Well, we need a male Stark here. So I think we should invest a little time in trying to find out the truth.''    
  
Jon nodded, “Of course. But don't get your hopes up.”    
  
“That is the only reason I have made it this long,” she said. There was a pause in the conversation. “What did you need Jon?”   
  
“Excuse me?” Jon asked.   
  
“You were at the door when I was about to leave.”   
  
“Oh.” He seemed a bit uncomfortable as he tried to search for her words. “You slept in. I was coming to wake you because Lord Baelish wishes to talk to you. I am here to take you to him.”   
  
Baelish. Sansa closed her eyes and nodded. “Since when do you do the work of Lord Baelish?”   
  
“Oh, I rather fight another army of white walkers than work for that  _ snake _ ,” He said. “But I wanted to see what he has to say.”   
  
“About what?” Sansa said as she walked over to her chest, looking for something warm but fitting to her.   
  
“About why he helped us and what he wants in payment.”    
  
Sansa froze a bit as she grabbed at a gown that was a dark blue, almost black. She knew that Jon was not stupid, but why was he making her say it out loud? “You know why he came… He came because I asked him to.”   
  
Jon let out a huff of air. “He is the one that took you to Ramsay in the first place… He has lied to you and cheated at every chance he could. How could you trust him?”   
  
“Because he is the reason that we won the battle. The reason that you are alive and the reason I am no longer married to that monster,” she said, feeling her blood start to bubble.   
  
Jon walked over to her, entering her room without permission, something he would never do when they were children. “I don't like it, Sansa. He is in our walls. We finally have this place back and it feels like I already have spies everywhere. You might be used to that Sansa, but that is not how I will live.”   
  
“I don't like it any more than you do,” she said through her teeth. “But we all have to do things we don't like.”   
  
Jon's face fell, “You don't think I don't know that?”    
  
She could see the pain in his eyes, though he would never show it any other way. She closed her chest and nodded. “I have to get ready Jon, please give me a moment.”   
  
Jon turned on his heels and left the room without another word. He closed the door behind him with ease. Sansa had expected him to stomp off and slam the door, but he was cool the whole time. He was always like that, even when he was a child. She was never close to Jon. She really was not close to any of her siblings. Her sister played with Jon and Bran most of the time. Robert would be with Father or Jon. Rickon was too young to play with anyone but Bran. Everyone was really close to one another besides Sansa. She was close to her Mother and old Nan. It made her sick that she used to think that she was better than her siblings. That the only one she really respected was Robert and that was because of his age, not for who he was. Her family was so full of spirit and honor, she did not understand how someone like her could be the only living Stark left. She was always wanting to run away from Winterfell. Now she couldn't believe that she had it back.   
  
Her mind wondered as she got ready. She placed her hair in a half braid, letting her wild curls fall over her shoulders. The dress made her chest look large and her waist smaller. The little skin that was visible looked as white as snow. She lightly dipped herself in perfumes and added a rose color to her cheeks. She gave herself a once over before getting ready to leave. She looked over to where the pitch of water had been and saw a small flask of what she assumed was wine. She grabbed it and took a big drink. It went down the wrong pipe and she started to cough a bit. Once she was done she gathered herself enough, she left her room.   
  
Jon was waiting for her. His eyes widened when he saw what she was wearing, but he said nothing. She started to walk to the main corridor, feeling a bit overwhelmed walking through her halls again. When she entered the room she could see a bunch of people, some soldiers, and free folk. But her eyes found him within seconds. He spotted her and smiled so wickedly that Sansa's breath was taken from her. She remained cool in the face, but inside her stomach was flipping over itself. She walked slowly up to the snake with Jon at her side. Once she closed the space be offered his hand, which Sansa took. He slowly lifted it up to his lips and place a kiss on the back of her hand, not breaking eye contact.   
  
“My Lady, you look astonishing,” Baelish said, his smile never leave his face.    
  
Sansa offered a smile and took her hand back, “Enough with the niceties. You wanted to speak with me. So speak.”


	2. What I Owe You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Lord Baelish start talking 
> 
> Jon grows more confused
> 
> Lemon Cakes? It's nearly winter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Since tonight in the last episode of the season, I gift you with this. Please not that probably from this point it going to stray from the show.
> 
> A big show out to my beta. She is great and works just is hard in this fic as do all my other betas. They are amazing and I would not sound half as good without them. So a big had for my editing teams!

Lord Petyr Baelish's smile remained and he gave Sansa a small nod. “Yes. Well, why don't we go for a walk?”  
  
“Right here seems like a well enough place,” Sansa stated, trying to show him who had the upper hand.  
  
He looked around the room and his eyes rested on Jon for a moment. “I was hoping to talk to you alone. I think we owe each other that.”  
  
_I owe you nothing_ was what Sansa wanted to say. Though it would get her nowhere and she knew that it was a lie. She looked at her half brother and gave him a little nod. Jon seemed uneasy leaving her alone, but did not voice his concern and did as she requested. Baelish offered her an arm and she weaved her arm around his.

  
Lord Baelish was not like any other man. Most men prided themselves on their fighting skills or how big their muscles were. Even Tyrion had a good amount of tone in his body, from the little she saw if it. Though she really never grew close to her first husband, they had shared a room together as man and wife for months. Most people are not used to knocking before entering their own room. Mistakes were made.

  
But Petyr was proud of his intelligence over his strength. He was quick with his words more than on his feet. Some may see this as a weakness, but he had lived longer than some of the greatest swordsmen out there. Lord Baelish was unlike most men in other ways as well; ways Sansa did not like thinking about. Something about this man made her feel… something.

She looked him up and down quickly without fully turning her head in his direction. He dressed in dark colors like always. His shirt was made of the best fabric that money could buy, thick leather pants and black shoes to match. To keep him warm he wore a light coat and a thick hooded cape made from black bear fur. Baelish had his own symbol pinned to his left breast. The little bird might be small and the only one of its kind, but it was feared none the less. Much like Petyr himself.  
  
They walked around the keep for awhile; long enough to make Sansa a bit anxious. _This was probably his goal the whole time_ , she thought. Every time she would glance over to see his expression he was not facing toward her, but when she looked away from him she could feel his eyes glued on her. Something about his stare made her feel exposed under his eyes. As if he saw her more than just a pretty face. He stared as if he wanted to see more than just her face.

  
Though Sansa saw it as a curse, this was a situation in which she could use her beauty as a weapon. She knew that the Lord liked the way she looked, maybe more than others since, in many ways, she was a replica of his childhood love. He started to slow his pace once they left the warmth provided by the interior of walls and started to face the bitter cold of the outside. They walked to the back, around the stables, and to around to the God's woods _?_ Sansa thought in a panic. She stopped her feet from moving forward, causing Petyr to stumble a bit.  
  
“Something wrong, my Lady?” He asked looking at her with a soft smile and understanding eyes. She looked at him and back at the thick wooden doors.  
  
“I am not going in there,” she said firmly.  
  
She stared straight ahead as Petyr searched her face looking for a way to get her to follow him blindly. “Well I thought we could just walk over to the heart tree,” he said gently.  
  
Sansa had hated the heart tree as a child. It made her feel like she was being watched. But maybe being watched right now would not be such a bad thing. Sansa sighed but decided she would give into his wishes this time. While she refused to be pushed around any more than she already had and her mind was not so easily changed, she realized that any true leader knew when to pick their battles. “I don't want to say there long.”  
  
“Understood, my Lady,” He consented and started walking again towards the sacred ground once more. As they left the safety of Winterfell's stone walls, Sansa spotted the two wildlings that she had splashed earlier that morning. They looked at her not with anger, but with concern. She gave them a reassuring nod that she willingly accompanied the Lord they had never heard of before a few days ago. Sansa could feel a bit of fear sink into her. She tried her best to keep her composure, but she must have cracked or hesitated… or perhaps he just knew her that well.  
  
“Don't worry so much, Little Bird. I will keep you safe,” He said with a smile.  
  
Sansa did not look at him. “That's not the first time I have heard that.”  
  
“Sansa, you have to forgive me. I honest-”  
  
“I don't have to do anything!” she spoke, fully looking at him for the first time since taking his arm. “And no, I honestly don't believe that you were entirely clueless. You had to have some indication that he was a monster. You of all people must have known _something_ .”  
  
He was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I will have to win you trust back.”  
  
“You may have a lot of things in the world, my Lord,” Sansa said, “But I highly doubt my trust will ever come to be one of those things.”  
  
“Only time will tell.”  
  
“And what makes you think that we have that amount of time?”  
  
His smile was wide, but his eyes still remained a serious green-gray. His eyes never smiled. “Sansa, you have your home back.”  
  
“Thanks to you,” She relented.  
  
He nodded. “I will admit to that. Things did appear to not be going well for Jon Snow upon our arrival.”  
  
The thought of losing Jon was a bit numbing to Sansa. Saying that she was never close to him was an understatement. She treated him like the bastard he was growing up. That didn't make it right, however. Her time in Kingslanding had certainly altered her point of view. Titles and names didn't ensure goodness. “Thank you, by the way. I honestly would not be here had you not come to our aid.”  
  
“I never thought twice,” he said. Sansa knew that he was telling the truth, but she wondered rather he was saying this out of compassion or strategy.  
  
When they got to the heart tree a gust of wind blew Sansa’s hair over her face. With her free hand she grabbed it and threw it over her shoulder, but it was nearly out of control. Now she was wishing she had taken the time to put it up in a braid. Lord Baelish stopped and watched Sansa fiddle with her hair.  
  
“That hair is always getting you in trouble. It's the Catelyn in you.” His eyes traveled over her and she knew he was comparing her looks to those of her mother. But he quickly returned to the present and grinned at her.  
  
Speaking of her mother had gotten less painful with Brienne around to help keep her memory alive. Perhaps it was just being back in the home she had grown up in with her mother at her side that made Sansa smile, “She would have told me to put it up.”  
  
He laughed with his eyes this time. Having arrived under the cover of the tree, Lord Baelish let go of her arm and moved so they were face to face. He lifted his hand to Sansa and out of habit she flinched. She felt ashamed for showing weakness. Petyr lightly moved a piece of hair from her face and slid it behind her ear before pulling his hand back, keeping their physical contact brief for now.  
  
“I know trusting me is hard, Sweetling, but please don't fear me.”  
  
Sansa looked away from his haunting eyes and cleared her voice. “I think we should discuss the payment I owe you.”  
  
~  
  
Jon could no longer stare out the window and wait for Sansa to come back. Why in all the Seven Kingdoms she would be alone with that vermin he would never understand. But he really never understood a lot of the things Sansa did. He rose from his chair and left the keep. Once his foot hit the ground it was like the people could sense him. Every five feet he walked someone was asking questions that he would never know the answers too. It took him nearly 15 minutes just to cross the courtyard to get over to the gate that would lead him to the God's woods. He was about to ask for it to open when he saw it was already moving. Coming towards him on the other side was Sansa, her arm still  linked around that of Lord Baelish. In Sansa's free hand appeared to be a lemon cake that she was slowly eating as they casually strolled back inside the walls.

  
_What is happening_ ? Jon was at a loss for words. Baelish walked the girl up to him and with a nod to both them and a peck on Sansa's hand, he left them alone, silent and watching the other. Jon looked at his half sister with wonder.  
  
“So?” He asked when he could no longer endure the silence of waiting.  
  
She shrugged. “So?”  
  
“So… what was that all about?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?!” he repeated growing more and more angry. “Sansa! Don't play these word games with me. What happened in the span of perhaps thirty minutes that made you go from you hating that man to you laughing and having lemon cakes with him? Where did you even get a damn lemon cake?”  
  
She sighed and looked around for an answer as though a suitable one would appear out of the cold air. “Well, there is really nothing I can do.”  
  
Jon was more confused than ever. He would honestly rather deal with Ramsay again than to deal with the word games of women. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Jon,” She said. “I hope you have something nice to wear.”  
  
Her words took a second to sink into Jon's skin as an uncontrollable anger washed over him. But once he had put the pieces together and he turned around to yell at his sister, she was already in the keep, having silently disappeared like fog over a lake. Jon was surrounded by a horde of people once more, none of whom had the answers he wanted. But he couldn't just walk away from them so, for now, trapping his sister and getting the information out of her was going to be impossible.  
  
Someone in the crowd asked loudly above the gathering crowd, “What are we doing next, Lord Snow?”  
  
“I suppose we are planning a wedding...” He said through his teeth. The crowd went silent. Slowly the crowd parted so Jon could pursue his mad sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it, you know what to do. DON'T WORRY. The lemon cakes with be explained.
> 
> Comments? Problems? Concerns? Hit up that comments area 
> 
> thank you all so much, I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> As always, I love you all
> 
> Puddles Out~


	3. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me. I wrote this on my phone xD. Sorry. I just got a burst of inspection

She heard the courtyard go quite as she walked away from her half brother. Knowing that her room was off limits, she had to find other ways to occupy herself. She started with the kitchen but found that her stomach was flipping around to much for her to hold down something substantial. When Sansa heard the overwhelming sound of silence that seemed to follow Jon as he race through the keep, she knew that it was time to drift off to a new hiding place. She went all over. Her siblings bedrooms, the basement, the crypt, the great hall… always one room ahead of Jon. It would take him half the day to keep up with her.

The library seemed to be the only place that felt one hundred percent authentic. It was untouched by Ramsay. Most of the books had a light layer of dust from years of not being read. Sansa looked at the books Old Nan had read her as a child; tales how the knight saved the fair maiden from dragons and barbarians. She wanted nothing but to live these stories, and at one point she thought that they would come true.

“How stupid of me,” She whispered to herself as she ran her long finger down the spine of one of her favorite books. She heard a sigh behind her and slowly turned to she Jon leaning against the door. They both found it hard to keep eye connection. She was expecting him to blow up and yell and tell her how wrong she was, but he just watched her and waited. Sansa could not find the words to say, let alone how to defend herself.

After several minutes of silence, “Why?”

She straightened herself and pushed her shoulders back, “It was the most logical thing to do see that wint--”

“No...” He said. “I know why you thought you had to do it… You used your hand as strategy,” He paused and moved closer in the room, “You have been a widow for less than 48 hours and you are ready to share your life with _another_ man… With Little Finger.”

“I-,” Sansa was at a loss for words, “I have to Jon.”

“No you don't… You don't have to do anything you never what to do ever again.”

Sansa sighed, “That is not true Jon.”

“Sansa, I would be dead without you. You are the reason we have our home back… You are much stronger than you think.”

“No...” She said, “If Baelish had not come to our aid, we would both be dead.”

“But you are the one that sent the raven.”

“Jon...”

“Sansa, you don't have to do anything, for anyone, that you don't what to have to do. Ever again.”

“I would like to believe that is true, but we have to think...” Sansa said, “Winter is coming and we have to take care of the North I might be a Stark at heart, but I lack the name. Jon you are a ba--”

She bit her tongue. Not wanting to look at his reaction, she turned her back to him.

 

~

 

Jon listened as his little sister started to fall apart with every word that left her mouth. He could see that she was trying to keep everything together but knew that she had no way of doing so. He looked at her, her back turned now and waited for her shoulders to start bouncing up and down with sadness. He was even prepared to help her through her trial of overwhelming hardship due to her new found responsibility. But she popped her head back up and turned so that she could see only the profile of her angelic face.

“Forgive me, Jon,” she asked. Her voice strong and not sympathetic. Her face was hard and her eyes lacked life. It had not hit him till this moment that he had not been talking to Sansa. Not truly. He has been talking to a woman that was trained in the lie of Kingslanding. Prepared to make her next move in the game that only demons could master.

Jon was finding it hard to find the right words for a moment. He looked at the girl her thought was Sansa. Still the same fire hair. Still the same forest eye. Still the same snow skin…. But lost deep down was the free spirit. The one full of dreams and wishes and love. “... Sansa…You are free… Just enjoy your **freedom**.”

Sansa turned fully to face Jon, but not before he could see the flinch in her shoulder, “I thought I made this clear. When need a name-”

“No,” he cut her off, “If it come down to it…. If we were ever in the much of need. The north will follow me.”

“Jon… The world sees only names.”

He could not help but let out a bit of a chuckle, “And you are ready by to take on your fourth… What will the world see of you now.”

A smile played at the edge of her mouth, “That I will always pay my debts, skin any enemy that gets in my way, and have a web of spies in my pocket?”

“You are missing one,” Jon states. “The most important one.”

Sansa nodded, “I will never forget. The north never dies. And…” Jon watched as Sansa walked over the the window. She looked out and almost whispered. “Unlike all of the other houses. I can survive the winter.”

Snow started to fall almost on cue.

 

~

 

Jon had said nothing more on the subject and Sansa was thankful for it. She found it hard to keep her cool around her half brother. He was more raw than the people she was used to dealing with. He was not full of the whispers and secrets and games like the rest of the people she has to deal with... what does the make her? Like the **rest**... She pushed the train of thought from her head and moved on with something easier.

Sansa found herself spending the rest of the day in her room, remembering her morning with Little Finger...

 

“I think we should discuss the payment I owe you.” Her voice was strong but she knew he probably could see through her. His smile was painted on his face and he did not flinch at her words. 

“Ah,” He said with a forced breath, “ _You_ of all people would expect a payment from an old friend who has given you a favor.”

She could not help but smile, “I don’t know such things.

“Favors?”

“No, old friends.” She said, looking in everywhere but his eyes. “But we know that your favors are just a nice way of saying, “you will owe me someday.””

He let out a quick laugh, “Is that so?”

“Yes, my Lord. I believe that day is today.”

His eyes squinted slightly together, showing his age, “So soon, my dear.”

“What’s the wait.”

“Enjoy your **freedom** ,” He said lightly.

Sansa laughed, “Awe yes. How can I enjoy something I don’t have…” It was not a question. She was trying to be strong but could feel herself slipping. What was about this man, the one that's has used her, just as other men... What made her want to trust him... The only rational thought that she could have was that he was good at his game and he has had years of practicing hiding his hand. 

Baelish’s hand found Sansa’s chin before she had time to move away. She found herself swimming in his eyes. She was half expecting him to lean in and softly place his smooth, sweet lips on hers, but he did not. He did not do much of anything for a large amount of time, or was it small? Sanas was not sure.

“I was hoping to do this in a nicer way, my dear.” He almost whispered, “But _you_ would make a fight over a civil agreement.

“Do what?” Sansa asked in a small voice, hating how childish she felt.

His hand left her chin and her skin burned were his finger tips lingered. He slowly walked around the Heart Tree. She waited for him to return with a small basket in hand. “Ask for your hand my hand, my Lady.”

He removed the thin fabric that covered the contents of the wicker basket, once her eyes locked on the sweet treasures she could not help but gasp. “Lemon Cake… How in the Seven Kingdoms did you...”

Petyr let out a sugary laugh, “Out of all the things I have produced in front of you and deserts is what shocks you.”

Sansa could not help but roll her eyes, “I am just not used to being shocked.”

“Aren't you?

The girl had no words for this, she let her eyes fall from the cakes and to the ground. He moved closer and slid his arm around her waist. It would be seen as something inappropriate in public, even for a couple to be… wed. But they were not in public. A chill when throw her, but it was not due to the cold. “Take a cake, dear.”

She looked up at him and froze when she noticed how close his face was to her; she could feel his breath. She let her hand grab a small cake and popped the whole thing in your mouth.

“How long would you think it would take to plan a wedding?” He asked her.

Sansa swallowed, “A few days if you were in a rush.”

“How’s a week?” His face had not moved.

“You are letting _me_ plan it?”

He laughed and his breath was sweet with mint, “Of course, my dear.”

Sansa ripped her face from his and grabbed at another lemon cake. Little fingers lips brushed across her cheek quickly. Sansa froze as his hand slid to the small of her back. An unknown fire burned in stomach. Was there something wrong with the cakes?

“I should get to Winterfell, my lord.” She said and slid from his touch, “Last thing you need is Jon and his army of Wildlings marching around Winterfell to find me."

And with this, he offered his arm and a laugh.

 

~

 

Sansa found herself replaying the interaction time and time again as the day went on, wondering why she felt young again.


	4. Trust Him Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still writing on my phone so deal with the mistakes.
> 
> Comment if you see something just horribly stupid

Sansa had never had a say in her previous weddings. When she was to be, married to Tyrion she was a prisoner. She realizes now she was _very_ lucky. The imp was always very kind to her and he could have treated her a lot worse. She believed that he was good and that was hard to find in this world. Sansa did not know if she could even call herself good. She hoped that wherever he may be was happy or at least safe... 

When she was married off to the monster, it was all planned before she made it past the gates. Even if she would have had the chance to voice her option, Ramsay was mounting her before she had a chance to feel safe from Kinglanding’s grip. Dark thoughts started to creep into her head so she hummed a old lullaby that her mom used to sing to her to help her concentrate. 

So, now that she had a choice in what she wanted, she almost did not know what to do. When she was young she had planned the evening many a time in her head and even wrote it down in her journal. It was to be huge! All the lords from all the lands would come to see her wedded off to non other than the finest man in all of Westeros. She would have a dress made of the softest silk, shoes engraved with real stones and gems, the best wine and food in the world. The party after the ceremony would last for days. And once her new husband could not go any longer without wanting to be alone with his wife, he would take her hand softly and they would return to their bed chambers. Here is when they would create the most beautiful babies the gods have yet to see. It would go down in the history as the most romantic wedding of all time. 

Sansa could not help but laugh at her **ridiculous** dreams. Was she really that thick? It angered her that she thought this was going to be her life. That her parents and siblings and everyone that knew the girl let her think this… This made her blind to the horror of the world and the lust of men. She did not want a great fest or the best dress or a party that would last hours upon hours… The vast amount of wine was appealing and she was hoping that she had not pick up the alcoholic habits of her first husband. As she was deep in thought, running a brush through her hair before bed, she heard a light tap at her door. This caused her to jolt a bit from her seat out of old habits. Shaking off the memories before they could find their way to the surface, Sansa slipped on her thick robe. Peaking out the door she saw Petyr with his back toward the door.

“My Lord?” 

He turned to her and saw that she was using the door as shield. This brought a smile to his face, “Oh, I am sorry for the bad timing, My Lady, but could I come in?”

Sansa nodded and let the lord through the door. She was a bit taken back when she saw that he was clothed for travel. Using her arms she crossed her arms around her chest to keep the robe in tucked and cursed herself for not tying it in the first place. 

“How many I help you?” 

He ignored her question, “That was your mother’s song?’’

“You know it?” she asked, desperately. 

“Yes, I was there when she made it up. She would sing that day and night.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, but did let it distract her any longer, “Can I help you, sir?”

He took a deep breath, “I did not come here for you aid, dear girl. I have to leave and I wanted to bid you a goodbye before I did so.”

Sansa gasped, “You are _leaving_?”

“Not for long, My Lady, just a couple of days.”

“Getting cold feet already?” She said sharply. 

He laughed despite her tone, “Oh no,” He looked her up and down quickly. “Of course not you obscured girl, I will be back in plenty of time to make the wedding. I just have to make some arrangements.”  

“And you have to leave now? It’s just after sundown.”

“It’s a bit of a travel.” 

She was hesitant, “Well, the night get cold. Winter is here. If it’s urgent we can push the wedding back, I suppose that we-”

“Are you concerned for my safety?” he asked and took a small step closer to her. Sanas was at lost of words with his comment and knew found closeness. He lifted her chin again, like he had in the Gods Woods, forcing her to make eye contact. “Well?”

She swallowed and tried her best to look past him, “You no good to be dead and frozen on the side of the road….” 

A smile spread across his face, “I will take that as a yes.”

Sansa tried to snap her head away from his touch, but his grip tightened. She wanted to spit in his face or jam her head into his nose, but she knew this would not end well. Her hand formed tight fists... To her surprise, he lighted his fingers and moved them over to cup her cheek.

“You will learn to trust me again.” 

She sighed, her hands relaxing as the breath left her chest, “I hope this doesn't hurt your feelings but it's going to have to be something extremely amazing for me to trust a word you say.”

He laughed and this was not the reaction she was expecting. “No, Sweetling, don't worry, my feelings are intact.” 

Sansa could not help but give up a small smile. Deep down she hoped that this wasn't going to be all of their interactions. She didn't not want him to be able to just shock and confuse her enough so that she just give in. His charisma was his weapon of choice and he was a master in the art of speech. 

They stayed quiet for a moment, not from awkwardness. Santa just did not have anything else to say. She tried to ignore how hot his touch was under her check or how his eyes would flick to her lips for a fraction of a second. Not that she was opposed to physical contact with Little Finger. He was always been carefully gentle with her and she thank the gods for that… She did not know if she had the mental or physical health to keep up with another man that bedded his wife like she was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. The staying thoughts made her shudder. 

“Cold?” 

“A little,” but it was not due to the temperature of the room. 

He ran his finger quickly on her lower lip. Where the pain from the that ice had formed over her heart, a fire from her stomach became to overpower it with a feeling that was all new to the girl. He leaned in slowly and Sansa held her breath. When he stretched his body so that he could plant his lips on her forehead, Sansa was not amused by the uncontrollable disappointment that washed over her body. 

“Get some sleep, Little One.”

She nodded and his hand fell back to his side. “Safe travels, My Lord.” 

“Sweet dreams, My Lady.”

~

With Little Finger no longer wandering around the keep, you would think that Sansa would be more at peace. But she found it hard to breath at some points of the day. She found the keep uncomfortably loud during the days of his leave. Something about him being around made people have to overwhelming urge to whisper. As if that would keep their secrets safe. 

Her panic grew after she had a conversation with Jon the second morning after Petyr left. Sansa had found herself being awoken by Wildlings for the second time. They were not outside her window, but in her home. She dressed quickly that morning and hurried to see what was happening. The source of mayhem was coming from the great hall. She was surprised to Jon telling a bunch of men where to place a large table. She had not spoken to her brother in nearly three days. She forced a smile and stood next to him. He did not look up at her. 

“Good morning, Jon.” She said in a friendly tone. He slightly turned his head toward her, without looking at her face, and gave him a quick nod. This angered Sanas very much. Jon's face was hard, but not with anger. 

She waited and hoped he would break the silence but to no avail. “Why the remodel.” 

His face remain focused on the men but with a sigh he answered her, “We to need make room for an aisle” 

“Oh…” Sansa was taken back, something that has been happening more often. She did not like it. “You don't have to do that. I was planning on it being small and …”

“I was asked to, well, practically bribed to,” he and and with a huff. 

“Excuse me?”

“You are not the only one that gets late night visits from Little Finger,” he said in a flat voice. 

Sansa cleared her throat, “So you are spying on me now?’’

“Hardly,” he sighed again. “I do have your room guarded at night. The free folk can get a little… aggressive. I don't think anything would happen, but I am not taking the chance.”

“I lock my door Jon.” she said. “I highly doubt anyone, free folk or not, can get through.”

“Then, how will I know what you are up too?” he asked teasingly.

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Very funny.”

He laughed lightly and started to slowly walk forward, and Sansa followed. If they started to get to close to the people working, they would nod or smile but step aside. The did not hunch over in fear and anxiety. They did bow or drop their head. This was what Sansa expected. What she had seen from time and time again. Now that she looked back, it reminded her of how people used to treat her father. 

“In all seriousness, it helps me sleep better knowing you are as safe as you can be. I won't have a say in your well being for much longer. So I will be dammed if you are hurt while I the will to stop it.” 

Sansa nodded touched by his words, “Thank you Jon. That means a lot.”

“We are family,” Jon said. “You might be crazy but nothing changes that.” 

Sansa was about to say something but her attention was snapped away by the sound of a terrible scrap. Jon jump a bit and sighed when he found the cause. I young man was dragging to large chairs across the room. 

Jon yelled and the man stopped. “Those chairs are probably older than both our years combined. Please. Pick the bastards up.” 

The man sighed but did what he was told. Sansa could not help but laugh, “What did Petyr have to say to you?”

He face twisted, “Oh a first name basis with him now?” 

“Jon…”

He sighed, “He came in as ask me three things of me, and I agreed to two of them, but think that was his plan.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because the fucker likes to play games.” Jon said with poison in his voice. Sansa gave him an odd look. 

“You been around too many free folk.”

He laughed, “Trust me, they don’t talk anymore worse than the those at The Wall.”

She shrugged, “What did Little Finger require of you?”

“He requested for you hand in marriage, for one,” Jon started. “But I told him that he already had it once you agreed. Your hand was not mine to give… Than he said, “Yes, but me marking you sister would mean that I would have a rightful claim on Winterfell. To being the lord.””

“No,” Sansa interrupted. “We did not agree on that! You just got home Jon! I won’t have it. I will call the wedding off right now. Agreement or not, he knew where I stand on the matter of our home. To think that-”

“Would you let me finish,” Jon asked, interrupting her interruption. “He told me that he wanted nothing to do with the running of Winterfell. That the north belonged to me… to our family. He said that was want your mother would have wanted…”

Sansa was at a lost for words, “... He said that?”

Jon nodded, “Trust me, I was as much in awe as you are now.”

“Okay, what was the last thing he asked of you?” Sansa said with a small voice, “The one you said you would not do?”

“He asked me not to tell you any of the topics we discussed. I told him I could not do that. I won't lie or keep things from you... It's going to be _difficult_ once you are married. But I need you on my side. No matter the distance or marital status.” Jon grumbled, “But like I said. It was probably the snakes plan.”

Sansa took in the words her half brother and thought about them carefully, “I think he’s trying to prove that I can trust him.”

Jon bursted out with laughter, “Didn’t know that man could work miracles.”

“That’s about what I told him.”

“I suppose the worst thing he could do is kill us and take Winterfell, “Jon said in a teasing tone. “So I hope this will all work out. It’s going to be hard with you le-”

“That is not the worst he could do.” Sansa could not help but interrupt her brother. Jon was about say something but stopped when he saw the girl's face. 

“Forgive me for my lack of sensitivity.”

She said, “No harm done, I suppose.”

“I forget…” Jon struggled with his words. “That you have been through so much… What I mean is; you walk around with an invisible armor. You are able to look at almost anything and deal with it. Most women would have fallen apart by now…”

Sansa corrected Jon, “I think you overestimate my defenses and underestimate the strength of women. Yes, I have been through a lot, but so have all the people here; in Winterfell and all of Westeros. You have been stuck in a world that is not this one for a long time Jon. You have been fighting barbarians and monsters. The rest of the world has been dealing with the games of Queens and Kings fighting for power. Not caring dies, gets raped, skinned alive, tortured or used.”  

He nodded, “You are right this is why I need you he-” Jon was cut short by the the sounds of a crash in the background. They turned and saw two men in each other faces. “By all the Gods, new and old! I am sorry Sansa. We will finish this conversation later.”

“Yes… Have lunch with me later… We still have a lot to talk about.” 

Jon nodded and hurried off to split up the two men. Sansa watch as he bother he said few words to get them calm. After a handful of minutes, the three of them started laughing. Turned out Petyr Baelish was not the only one good with talking himself out of a problem. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. If you want more of this then hit that kudos heart! If you want something new or see a mistake, hit me up in the comment.  
> Also. Can we please give a big hug to my beta. Without her, this fic would not be half as good. So thank you very much iriskitty9. She is wanting to take on more beta jobs so I will leave a link to her profile. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/iriskitty9/pseuds/iriskitty9
> 
> Once again, thank you. I love you all
> 
> Puddles Out~


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